


Dancing (With Our Hands Tied)

by broken_boiz_in_love



Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alastair POV, Anna POV, Christopher Is Thomas's Wingman, Everyone Is Hot And Bothered, F/F, M/M, Thomas has anxiety, Will Herondale Is A Party Animal, but he's kinda a jerk here, disclaimer: i love matthew fairchild with my whole ass heart, thomas pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:14:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28705734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broken_boiz_in_love/pseuds/broken_boiz_in_love
Summary: The young Shadowhunters were forming lines again and meeting with their original partners. Relieved that they would no longer be parading around like show horses, Thomas reached out and grabbed the girl’s hand without looking, pulling her close to him, like the other dancers were. Her hand was small and cold in his large one. He wrapped his other arm around her waist as was custom and finally, feeling very satisfied with himself, looked down at his partner with a winning smile. The pit of his stomach plunged as if the floor had dropped out beneath him.Thomas was not dancing with the beautiful, tall girl. He wasn’t even dancing with a girl.Swaying in his arms, looking as startled as Thomas felt, was Alastair Carstairs.
Relationships: Alastair Carstairs & Cordelia Carstairs, Alastair Carstairs & Thomas Lightwood, Alastair Carstairs/Thomas Lightwood, Anna Lightwood & Thomas Lightwood, Ariadne Bridgestock & Alastair Carstairs, Ariadne Bridgestock/Anna Lightwood, Christopher Lightwood & Thomas Lightwood
Comments: 6
Kudos: 112





	Dancing (With Our Hands Tied)

**Author's Note:**

> I have literally no idea why this is so goddamn long, so don’t bother asking. In truth, I should have kept this between Thomas and Alastair. It’s their story. But Anna Lightwood demanded to be included, so I had no choice but to write 1500 words from her POV.

Thomas Lightwood was _not_ looking forward to the New Year. While the rest of London was buzzing with excitement, Thomas was trying to forget the holiday season altogether. It wasn’t that Thomas didn’t enjoy a good holiday; on the contrary, he loved big family celebrations like Christmas. The New Year had never been all that important to Thomas, but this year Will Herondale had decided that the London Institute should throw a New Year’s ball. Thomas had no issue with this, except for the fact that just a week before there had been a _Christmas party_ at the London Institute. Another large event — like a ball, for instance — seemed completely unnecessary. 

Thomas was not looking forward to the ball, but it did give him an excuse to stay with his aunt and uncle for a few days. He had been home very little in the last three months. It was perhaps shameful, but Thomas couldn’t bring himself to face his heartbroken family for longer than a few days at a time. In the months since his sister Barbara’s death, Thomas thought he saw his mother cry every day he was home. This was strange and frightening, as Sophie Lightwood was one of the strongest people Thomas had ever known. He could hardly bear the fact that something could wound his kind, beautiful, wonderful mother so deeply. 

Christmas had been dreadful. It was the first Christmas his family had celebrated since Barbara’s death. They had forgone the annual Shadowhunter Christmas party. Sophie and Thomas’s older sister Eugenia had sat under the candlelit fir tree all day, holding each other and sobbing, while he and his father sat quietly nearby, fighting back tears. It was unfair, all of it.

Groaning in frustration,Thomas flopped over onto his back, Christopher’s bed creaking beneath him.

“Do get over yourself, darling Tom,’’ said Anna, through a mouthful of pins. She was standing across the room in front of a tall cheval glass, trying to adjust the waistcoat of a squirming Christopher. Anna was already dressed in a sharp black suit. Her short inky hair was carefully styled and her blue eyes were already glinting in anticipation of the night. Christopher, in stark contrast to his sister, was looking rumpled and rather disgruntled. He shot Thomas a long-suffering glance as Anna pinned the cuffs back on his long shirt. Thomas, in spite of himself, smiled a little. 

“There,’’ said Anna, stepping back to admire her work. “I’m going to go see if the carriage is ready. Be ready to leave in ten minutes. We should arrive at the Institute fifteen minutes late exactly, but we can’t be any later; that would be rude.’’

“What?” said Christopher. 

“And _don’t_ look so mournful, you two!” Anna called over her shoulder as she left Christopher’s bedroom. 

Christopher’s lavender eyes blinked owlishly behind his spectacles. He turned to Thomas. “Why must we be ‘fashionably late’?” He asked.

Thomas shrugged. “Ask Matthew tonight.’’

Christopher nodded. “I’ll do that.’’

_He absolutely will._ Thomas rolled off the bed and clapped Christopher fondly on the back. “What are our chances of avoiding dancing tonight, cousin?”

“Quite small, I’m afraid,’’ said Christopher sadly. 

Thomas ruefully agreed.

* * *

Fifteen minutes was apparently the perfect amount of time to arrive “fashionably late”, because the Lightwoods arrived at the exact same time as Matthew Fairchild. 

“See Mother,’’ said Anna, “Matthew’s only just arriving too.’’

Cecily nodded. “I see.’’ 

Matthew caught sight of the Lightwoods and lifted a hand in greeting, then lifted a flask to his lips. He disappeared into the institute.

Cecily frowned. “Charlotte and Henry aren’t coming, are they?” she asked her husband. 

Gabriel shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.’’ 

“You should tell Matthew to take it easy on the champagne tonight,’’ she said quietly. 

“That was not champagne, Mother,’’ said Anna, lighting a cigar. 

“I know, but—”

“Matthew’s not a child anymore,’’ Gabriel said gently. 

“Oh,’’ Cecily whispered, “but he is just a boy.’’ 

Thomas looked at Christopher to see if he was listening, but his cousin was holding Alexander and appeared to be trying to put him to sleep. At least holding his sleeping brother would give Christopher an excuse to avoid dancing. 

Anna lead the family into the institute, immediately locating the ballroom. She bade her parents farewell (as she would be departing to her own flat at the end of the evening) then drifted off. Gabriel and Cecily went to greet Will and Tessa and thank them for hosting and wish them Happy New Year or whatever it was adults did at parties. Before departing, Cecily kissed Christopher’s forehead and took Alex from him, “Now go have a good time!” 

Christopher shrugged and went to find a lemon tart. 

Thomas suddenly wished his own family was there, but he knew it was too hard for his parents and Eugenia to face the beginning of their first year without Barbara in public. Thomas came to the ball to stay away from the grief. He would be going home afterwards. He no longer dreaded returning to his broken-hearted family; now he was wishing he could go home right that very moment. 

“Thomas!” James was waving him over. He was standing with his fiancée Cordelia, although she was occupied with something her future- _parabatai_ Lucie was saying. Matthew was there too, in a bright red waistcoat that he somehow managed to pull off. As Cecily predicted, he had a flute of champagne in one hand, already half drained. Thomas joined them, just as Christopher returned with a lemon tart, looking very pleased. 

“Happy New Year, Tom!” Lucie exclaimed, throwing her arms around her cousin. 

“Happy New Year, Lucie,’’ said Thomas as warmly as he could manage. 

As Lucie hugged Christopher, Cordelia greeted Thomas. He responded politely, but the sight of her dark eyes and **beautiful golden brown** skin caught him off guard. He didn’t usually notice or care what girls looked like. It was no concern of his. For a moment though, Thomas lost himself in Cordelia’s features before it even registered that it was _Cordelia_ he was looking at. It wasn’t Cordelia he was thinking of, to be sure. He was suddenly scanning the crowd for another dark-eyed Shadowhunter.

* * *

Alastair Carstairs had found a good spot to hide. He was nestled in a corner, by the punch bowl. He held a glass of champagne, but it was to maintain his causal appearance only; Alastair rarely drank.

Alastair watched Cordelia. She was easy to spot with her brilliant hair. She was dancing with James. _Good,_ Alastair thought. Last time he had scanned through the crowd, James had been standing beside Cordelia, but staring at Grace Blackthorn. Grace was dancing with her fiancée Charles Fairchild. Charles, who also happened to be Alastair’s ex-lover. _Dear God, what a mess we are._

Someone else caught Alastair’s eye. Despite his efforts, it was hard not to notice the largest person in a room. Lightwood was sitting with his cousin, doing nothing of the interesting sort. A part of Alastair was relieved Lightwood was not dancing with some silly girl. Although, he reminded himself, the night was young. Thomas still had plenty of time to find a pretty girl and sweep her off her feet. And Alastair would watch it all go down in completely silence, even though every fiber of his body would be screaming. 

“You’re the Carstairs boy, right?”

Alastair blinked in surprise. A beautiful girl had approached him without him noticing. He quickly gathered himself and gave her a polite smile. “Ah, yes. My name is Alastair.’’ 

The girl’s mouth quirked. “I know.’’ 

Alastair laughed softly, a bit awkwardly. He was trying to the place the girl in his head. He’d seen her around; she attended all the parties. She had dark skin and long dark hair, an elegant face, a lovely smile. Where had he . . . ? Oh. Of course. “You’re the Inquisitor’s daughter.’’ 

The girl nodded, still smiling, although some of the light had died from her eyes. She was the Bridgestock girl. Charles’ first fiancee, the one he had left for Grace Blackthorn. It was a cruel thing to do to a girl, Alastair knew. He had never quite understood Charles’ motives for it. Charlies said he and Ariadne had an “understanding”. . . _Ariadne._ “Ariadne, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.’’ Ariadne didn’t move. 

Alastair grew slightly uncomfortable. _Whatever it is you want from me, I’m afraid I cannot give it to you._ He was trying to think of a way to phrase that cordially, when he noticed people lining up on the dance floor. “Would you like to dance?”

“Oh!” Ariadne looked startled, but recovered quickly. “Yes, of course.’’ She curtsied and accepted his arm. As they walked toward the floor, Alastair tried hard not to panic. Why had she been surprised that he asked her to dance? Had she known about him and Charles? The thought sent an icy shiver down Alastair’s spine. 

Alastair had only asked Ariadne to dance with him because he’d thought she was waiting for him to, but her shocked reaction confirmed otherwise. That was fine. Great, actually. Alastair didn’t want to dance with her either. He was trying to think of an excuse to save them both when the music started. He cast Ariadne an apologetic glance. _Too late._ They hurriedly took their place in line. 

It was a group dance, also known as a line dance. The way it worked was for the girls and boys to form two separate lines so everyone face their partner. The lines would come forward, move back, maybe clap their hands a bit. Then the partners would join hands and spin each other around, et cetera. Partners would switch back and forth, working down the line, but the two original partners were always supposed to end up together again. Then they would dance for a few measures, and the switching pattern would begin again. Over and over for an ungodly amount of time. It was all rather pointless, Alastair thought, all that switching around. He’d never actually participated in a line dance. He’d figure it out, he told himself with as much confidence as he could muster. 

The music quickened. Alastair — and the entire line of boys — stepped forward. Alastair spun Ariadne, then let go of her hand and stepped back. Feeling very foolish, Alastiar clapped in time to the music with the boys, as the girls came forward and circled their partners. Alastair suppressed a sigh. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

By the time the music began, Thomas had forgotten the name of his blonde partner. She was extremely attractive, tall and curvy, with long dark blonde hair and hazel eyes. Her dress was wine-red and cut far lower in the front than Thomas was comfortable with. He smiled weakly at her, trying to look anywhere other than her voluptuous bosom. She smiled sweetly back at him, a predatory glint flashing in her eyes. 

Thomas glanced down the line at his friends. A few people down, James stood across from Cordelia, staring at the girl beside her. It was Grace. She stood across from her fiancee Charles Fairchild, who was also staring at her. Grace, however, was staring pointedly ahead, not looking at anyone. Cordelia had assumed a similar stance. On James’s other side was Matthew, who stood at the end of the line. Lucie was across from him, laughing at something he’d said. 

The line of boys suddenly began moving forward, Thomas hurrying forward to catch up. A few blurred moments later, Thomas’s partner was circling him, and Thomas cast a desperate look back to where Christopher sat alone. Christopher caught his eye and gave him an encouraging smile. _Help,_ Thomas mouthed, but the next dance formation began to form, and he was torn away from his cousin’s sight. 

Thomas’s heart was beating very quickly indeed by the time the first partner-switch occurred. He was distracted and breathless, and barely paying attention as he threaded through the line of girls. It was not that the dancing was physically exerting him; being a Shadowhunter, he was in excellent physical condition. He was not sure what was wrong with him, but the room seemed much too small and stifling. Maybe it was the jostle of bodies so close to him that was making him claustrophobic. 

Whatever it was, Thomas realized, didn’t matter because he’d just lost sight of his partner. Feeling panicked, Thomas told himself that no one else could see their partner at the moment, as they were all parading around each other. _It’s just a dance,_ he chided himself. 

The young Shadowhunters were forming lines again and meeting with their original partners. Relieved that they would no longer be parading around like show horses, Thomas reached out and grabbed the girl’s hand without looking, pulling her close to him, like the other dancers were. Her hand was small and cold in his large one. He wrapped his other arm around her waist as was custom and finally, feeling very satisfied with himself, looked down at his partner with a winning smile. The pit of his stomach plunged as if the floor had dropped out beneath him. 

Thomas was not dancing with the beautiful, tall girl. He wasn’t even dancing with a girl. 

Swaying in his arms, looking as startled as Thomas felt, was Alastair Carstairs.

* * *

Despite her initial reluctance, Ariadne proved to be a very talented dancer. She was graceful and kept time with the music remarkably well. It was clear to Alastair that she was already familiar with the dance from the way she changed effortlessly between the complicated patterns. Alastair was working hard to keep up. Wondering how much longer this could possibly go on for, he glanced down the line, and a jolt of sudden panic lanced through him. Standing beside him, rosy cheeked and breathless, was Lightwood. 

Lightwood — Thomas — was standing uncomfortably across from his partner. He kept casting desperate looks towards his friends, who were all to his left. Alastair was to his right. _He doesn’t see me._ Some of the panic subsided. As long as Alastair didn’t draw attention to himself, Lightwood wouldn’t even know he was there. 

The lines split. Alastair and Ariadne separated. Alastair tried not to be distracted by Thomas’s broad shoulders, the way his large body moved. _Focus on the_ girl, Alastair scolded himself. But when he tore his gaze back to Ariadne, she was gone. 

Alastair whipped his head around, searching frantically for her. She had completely disappeared. Where could she have possibly gone? He cursed himself for allowing Lightwood to distract him. 

The dancers were reforming with their partners now. Alastair, who no longer had a partner, stepped forward, searching for Ariadne. If only— 

Someone grabbed his hand. Before Alastair could react, he was being pulled towards someone. An arm slipped around his waist. Feeling large hands on his back, Alastair realized, horror filling him, that there had been a mistake. He had stepped right into the girls’ line while searching for Ariadne. He had accidentally been grabbed by a boy. _I’m dancing with a boy. My God._ Recovering slightly from the initial shock, Alastair looked up just as his new partner smiled and looked down. 

Alastair momentarily thought he would faint. He managed a shallow breath. The dancing faltered. Now standing still, in a room full of moving people, Alastair stared at Thomas Lightwood. His brown eyes were wide, the pupils dilated. Surprised, yes, but also . . . resolved? Noises of confusion came from Thomas’s side. Somewhere faraway someone started laughing. Alastair moved away, but Lightwood held him in place. 

“What—?” Alastair began, but Thomas had resumed dancing, leaving Alastair with no choice but to follow suit.

* * *

Anna Lightwood found the New Year’s ball frightfully dull. Usually, she enjoyed these things, but that night she was subdued. She stood with her parents and the Herondales, cigar in hand, watching the young Shadowhunters stumble through a line dance. Anna was completely focused on not losing sight of Ariadne Bridgestock. Ariadne was prancing gaily around the dance floor, her dark hair swirling around her. Even from a distance, Anna could make out the shape of her lips and see the dark red layered silk slip and slide over her gentle curves. Anna felt a _wanting_ so fierce that she could barely contain herself. She wanted to cry. Or laugh. Or scream until her lungs gave out.

Ariadne didn’t so much as glance at Anna. Anna tried not to be hurt. She consoled herself with the observation that Ariadne wasn’t looking at her dance partner either. Anna recognized Ariadne’s lucky partner as Cordelia’s brother, Alastair. Anna narrowed her eyes. She didn’t know him well, but Alastair Carstairs appeared to be no more interested in Ariadne than she was in him. This, of course, was absurd. Ariadne was the most beautiful girl at the entire ball. _Everyone_ must have seen it the way Anna did. How could they not? Anna wondered if Alastair’s vision was somehow impaired. She supposed not, since she had seen him on patrol. 

Unable to look away, her chest aching painfully, Anna continued watching Ariadne dance. The lines of boys and girls had split formation again. As they began forming new lines and coming together for the partner dance, Anna watched in amazement as Ariadne ducked out of line and began hurrying towards the exit. Anna followed her out of the ballroom with her eyes. She wondered where she was going. She was about to follow her, when her mother gasped, “Wait, something’s happened!”

Anna turned back to face the dance floor. Apparently, no one else had noticed Ariadne’s escape. Including the dancers. Of course, now the complicated dance was one person short, which meant Carstairs no longer had a partner . . . Anna watched, open-mouthed, as her dear cousin Thomas unwittingly grabbed the wrong person. 

Thomas and Alastair didn’t move. They stood completely still, staring at each other. Then, to everyone’s great shock, they began dancing again. _Together._ Whispers flew around the room. The adult Shadowhunters had confused, slightly disapproving looks on their faces. Well, except for Will and Gabriel, who were doubled over in fits of laughter. Tessa and Cecily were scolding their husbands for behaving like children, but Anna saw them suppressing smiles of their own.

Anna narrowed her eyes even further. She watched Thomas and Alastair dance. Their bodies were pressed together far closer than the dance required. They weren’t speaking, but their eyes were locked on each other. Their gazes were so intense Anna felt compelled to look away. Anna looked from them to the laughing adults. They thought it was a joke. The adults. They thought there’d been a mistake and now there were two young men dancing together. There _had_ been a mistake and two young men _were_ dancing together, but it wasn’t what the adults thought. They saw, but they didn’t _see._ Anna did. She could see plainly the way Thomas was looking at the Carstairs boy. 

Anna inhaled deeply on her cigar. Thomas had been sulking something awful recently. She had figured it was because his family was suffering through their first holiday season without Barbara. Now she thought it might be something else as well. Something she should have noticed before. 

Anna loved Thomas, as she loved all the Merry Thieves. She loved him specially though, for the kindness he showed Christopher. Her brother was an unusual boy, but, God, did Anna love him. Thomas was a good cousin, a good friend, a good man. He was also content dancing with another man. Anna wondered if anyone knew. Gideon and Sophie were reasonable. They loved their children very much. They would probably be just as supportive of Thomas as Anna’s parents were of her.

“Oh, poor Tom!” Tessa laughed.

“Gabriel, dear, _do_ pull yourself together,’’ Cecily chided her husband. 

Will and Gabriel both seemed to think this was a terrific joke. Anna frowned at them. _How could they be so blind?_

“Oh!” Tessa suddenly gasped. She grabbed her husband by the arm. “Will, look!” She pointed towards the dance floor where chaos had ensued. Something had clearly gone wrong. Because the group was now one person short, the confused young men had all ended up with the girl to their right instead of their original partners. Thomas’s former partner, the tall girl, was now dancing with a rather short lad, who didn’t looked upset in the least with the new arrangement. A few more mixed-up couples later, some unfamiliar girl was dancing with Charles Fairchild, while Grace Blackthorn had ended up with James Herondale. _Fan the flame, why don’t you?_ thought Anna. Cordelia was now dancing with Matthew, who was on the end, which meant — Ah. Anna saw Tessa’s source of distress. Lucie Herondale was standing by herself at the end of the line, partnerless, looking puzzled and slightly hurt. Matthew didn’t seem to notice. He and Cordelia were practically undressing each other with their eyes. 

Will and Gabriel also seemed to find Lucie’s predicament funny, although they’d contained themselves a bit. “Oh, Lucie,’’ said Will fondly. 

_“Will,_ ’’ Tessa hissed. “Will, _do something!”_

“Ah, right.’’ Will gathered himself and strode towards his daughter. He bowed genteelly, taking Lucie’s hand, and seamlessly joined the dance as her new partner. Lucie, who was now beaming, giggled as her father spun her around. 

Anna set her cigar between her teeth. Where was Ariadne? Because, of course, she was the missing dancer. If Anna had been the least bit decent, she would have pitied Alastair for being abandoned on the dance floor, but all seemed satisfied with the new arrangement, and Anna wasn’t decent. She felt no pity. Her eyes caught on the back exit of the ballroom.

Ariadne Bridgestock. She was standing by the half-open great doors. She caught Anna’s eye and smiled. Then she disappeared. Anna inhaled deeply on her cigar once more, and extinguished it. She followed Ariadne. 

Anna arrived at the doors just in time to see the magenta swirl of skirts vanish down the hall. Her heart burning in her chest, Anna hurried after Ariadne. She found her standing alone outside on the Institute steps, staring out at the peaceful London night. Anna came up quietly beside her. Ariadne’s dark hair was gently waving in the chilly breeze. It was the first time Anna had had a good look at her that night. Her dress was dark magenta, almost red. It was cut low on her shoulders, exposing the first few inches of soft bare breast. Ariadne didn’t look at Anna, but she shivered, and Anna suspected it wasn’t from the cold. 

Without saying a word, Anna slipped her fingers into Ariadne’s hand. The warmth of it was fading in the chilly night air, but her hand was familiar in Anna’s and that was all that mattered. The relief that Anna’s body hadn’t forgotten the feel of Ariadne Bridgestock was palpable. She leaned closer into Ariadne, and whispered, “My carriage is just over there. Let’s get away.’’

Ariadne leaned into Anna so close that their lips nearly touched when she murmured, “Alright.’’ 

“Right now?” Anna confirmed.

Ariadne covered the short distance between their lips in response.

Heat flooded through Anna. Maybe it wasn’t for the best that Ariadne accompany Anna to her flat. But the night was young and so were they, and the laces of Ariadne’s corset were begging to be undone, so Anna felt nothing but joyful anticipation as she left the Institute behind, Ariadne Bridgestock on her arm.

* * *

Thomas didn’t know what made him do it. He didn’t know why he didn’t jerk away from Alastair the moment he touched him. He could have said there had been a mistake. Clearly there had been. It had surely happened before; this couldn’t be the first time a group dance had been mixed up. But Thomas didn’t pull away from Alastair. He gave himself exactly two seconds to react. Then he pulled Alastair Carstairs closer to him and they began to dance. 

Thomas could hear the chortles of laughter around him. He knew everyone thought this was all a big joke and that he, Thomas, was just being a good sport about it so they didn’t have to stop the dance altogether to sort out the issue. Thomas supposed it was good that this seemed to be the overall verdict. He supposed it was for the best that no one would ever know how good it truly felt to be dancing with Alastair Carstairs. 

The initial physical attraction Thomas had felt when seeing Alastair in Paris was nothing in comparison to this. Even the time Thomas had shown Alastair his compass tattoo and Alastair had traced his fingers down it paled in comparison. Alastair was in Thomas’s arms now. Thomas had one arm steeled around his waist, holding him so close that Alastair’s chest was nearly touching Thomas’s ribs. Thomas was clinging onto Alastair’s much smaller hand with his own large one. They were moving in time to the music. Dancing. They were dancing

Alastair’s eyes were so dark that they were nearly black. Thomas could scarcely tell where the pupil ended and the iris began. His thick eyelashes were thick and long. If he weren’t surrounded by people, Thomas would have tried to touch them. Not only to see if the lashes were as soft as they looked, but to see if Alastair trusted him enough to let him put his hand close enough to his eyes so that Thomas might feel the lashes brush his fingers when he blinked. 

The music began to slow. The dance was ending. Thomas’s heart sank. He didn’t want it to end, not yet. Perhaps not ever. He wanted to hold Alastair longer. He wanted everything that Alastair had ever said to hurt Thomas and the Merry Thieves in the past to be forgotten. He wanted the electricity between them to fizzle and spark until the whole world caught fire. More than anything though, Thomas wanted Alastair. He wanted him. Just him. With nothing between them, no one to stop them. 

The dance ended. All around them, gentlemen bowed and ladies curtsied. They began to clap politely for the musicians, who rose and bowed as well. No one was looking at Thomas and Alastair. Thomas could hold on a bit longer. Alastair made no move to break away. 

“What just happened?” Alastair breathed. 

“I’m not sure.’’ In truth, Thomas knew well enough, but he couldn’t say it. His hands were tied. 

“Lightwood—” Alastair began. 

“Thomas.’’

Alastair blinked. “Pardon me?”

“Call me Thomas. Please.’’ _Fool,_ Thomas cursed himself. _That’s what you sound like. A bloody fool._

But Alastair only smiled. “Very well. Thomas.’’ 

Thomas almost said something, but he was interrupted by sharp voice behind him. “Tom!” 

Thomas and Alastair sprang apart. Thomas felt heat rising instantly in his face. Matthew was striding towards him, Cordelia hurrying behind him. Alastair stepped away from Thomas.

“What in God’s name,’’ said Matthew, in a falsely pleasant voice, “was that?” 

“I, uh,’’ Thomas stammered. Was Matthew angry with _him?_ He knew he had good reasons to hate Alastair, but would this affect their friendship too? 

“There was a mistake,’’ said Alastair. His voice was steady, but Thomas noticed he wouldn’t meet Cordelia’s eyes. Cordelia’s gaze flickered from him to Thomas. She knew. 

“I see,’’ said Matthew, with same cool pleasantry. 

Alastair brushed a stray lock of dark hair out of his face. He inclined his head to Thomas, then Matthew, who snorted. Alastair ignored him. “Gentlemen.’’ He looked at Cordelia without really looking at her. “I’m going to go get some air. I’ll be back soon.’’ 

Cordelia opened her mouth to say something, but Alastair had disappeared into the crowd. Her eyebrows drew together and she turned to Matthew. “You could have been kinder, Math. Alastair’s done nothing wrong.’’ 

For a moment, Thomas thought Matthew was going to tell Cordelia the truth about her brother. But some secrets are better left alone. Matthew smiled again, and this time it was more genuine. “I was perfectly kind! It was all a mistake anyway.’’ For some reason, this last part was directed towards Thomas. Great God, was Matthew working it out too?

Thomas glanced nervously around the ballroom. Everyone seemed to have moved on from the disastrous line dance. He caught sight of Lucie laughing with her parents, Gabriel and Cecily. Grace Blackthorn appeared to be whispering something to James. Thomas saw a very disgruntled-looking Charles Fairchild hurrying towards his fiancee. Alastair had vanished. No one was looking Thomas’s way. But what if they were just moving on quickly? What if they all suspected Thomas and—

Thomas shook himself. What was he thinking? He didn’t even know if Alastair felt the same way about him. He was jumping to conclusions. 

“Tom?” Matthew was watching Thomas carefully. Too carefully. Thomas couldn’t do it anymore. He broke. Turning on his heel, he fled to the spot where he and Christopher had sat before the dance. Was that really only ten minutes ago? 

Christopher said nothing as Thomas sat down beside him. He watched his cousin thoughtfully. “So,’’ he said a moment later, “you and Cordelia’s brother?”

“I . . . Yeah.’’ There was no point lying to Christopher. 

Christopher adjusted his spectacles. “Alright.’’

“What do I do?” Thomas whispered. 

Christopher looked at him like it was the stupidest question he’d ever heard. “You go find him.’’ He pointed to the door. “He went that way.’’ 

“Kit, _I can’t.’’_

“You can.’’

“No, I can’t!” Thomas snapped. Christopher looked hurt. Thomas couldn’t remember ever having snapped at him before. He sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, Christopher, but I—” 

“You can,’’ said Christopher again, shortly. “And you must.’’

Thomas wasn’t sure what to do. What would happen if he went after Alastair? He supposed he had nothing left to lose. Except maybe his dignity. No one would know where he had gone except Christopher, however, who was the least judgmental person Thomas knew. _Damn it._

Thomas stood up. “I’m going to regret doing this.’’

“Not as much as you would regret not doing it!” Called Christopher behind him. 

Thomas threaded through the groups of Shadowhunters. He was vaguely aware of Gabriel calling to him as he passed, but he ignored him. Thomas slipped through the door. He was immediately greeted by a dim, empty corridor. The only light in the room was streaming in from the open door behind him. Tentatively, as if creating some foul crime, Thomas pushed the door closed. The light disappeared and Thomas was left in darkness, but it was worth it for the jubilant blend of voices in the ballroom to be muffled. 

Thomas squinted in the darkness. He didn’t have his stele with him or he would have drawn a rune to help him see better. Fortunately, Thomas knew the institute well. He was able to locate the exit without too much trouble.

Thomas stepped outside, loosening the collar of his shirt. Then he took several free, deep breaths. 

“You shouldn’t have followed.’’

Thomas turned to find Alastair lurking in the long shadows of the Institute’s walls. His chest tightened a little. He urged himself to breathe again, but all the air had fled his lungs. 

Alastair stepped into the dim light that was cast by the nearby street lamps. His arms were behind his back and his posture was formal. He carefully studied Thomas with his dark eyes. Finally, he asked, “Are you alright?”

Thomas nodded, still struggling to breathe slightly. 

Alastair’s mouth twitched. He stepped forward, closer to Thomas. One, two, three, four, five steps closer. They were face-to-face. Alastair’s hands reached to Thomas’s throat. Before Thomas could react, Alastair was undoing the top buttons of Thomas’s shirt. Thomas watched Alastair’s nimble fingers, his mouth going dry. Alastair stopped after four buttons. He withdrew his hands. He looked at Thomas imploringly. Almost without thinking, Thomas lifted a hand to touch his own bare throat and chest. He wasn’t sure where the panic had come from, but it had been real, and now it was gone. “Alastair . . .”

The spell broke. Alastair stepped away. “Don’t,’’ he warned.

“Don’t what?” Thomas demanded, growing frustrated. It had taken courage to come after Alastair and now Alastair was telling him off. 

Alastair looked away. “Just . . . don’t.’’

They were quiet for a long moment. 

“Would you like me to go back inside?”

“No,’’ said Alastair. “Stay.’’ _With me._

Thomas stayed. 

Another few minutes passed. The two young men stood together in silence. The wind was bitterly cold against his bare face, neck, and chest, but Thomas didn’t mind. He saw Alastair shiver and he briefly considered taking him up in his arms again. Before he made a decision, however, Alastair spoke up. “Why ever did you let that carry on for so long, Thomas?” He didn’t sound angry. Resigned perhaps, but not angry. “Why didn’t you put a stop to the dance as soon as you realized there had been a mistake? Why did you take my hand? Why wouldn’t you let go?” 

“Because,’’ said Thomas, “I think I’m in love with you.’’

Alastair looked up. In two long strides Thomas covered the distance between them. He took Alastair’s face in his hands and kissed him full on the mouth. Despite the chilly night, Alastair’s lips were warm and soft. Thomas sighed slightly as their mouths separated, but he barely had time before Alastair brought their lips crashing back together. Thomas melted into the starving kiss, his own lips working feverishly against the other boy’s. Alastair’s trembling hands found Thomas’s waist and pulled his body closer to him. Thomas didn’t remove his hands from Alastair’s face. He stroked his cheek gently with his thumb.

When the two boys finally broke apart, flushed and breathless, Thomas thought his lungs would burst. Not from lack of oxygen or panic. From pure happiness. Alastair Carstairs was standing in front of him. His cheeks were pink and he was panting like he’d been running. _I did that,_ Thomas thought ecstatically. _I_ did _that!_ The only fear he’d had when he kissed Alastair was that he had somehow misread Alastair’s signs; that Alastair did _not_ feel the same way about him. But now it was clear, so deliciously clear that he did. 

“I—I should get back to Cordelia,’’ Alastair managed. 

“Right,’’ Thomas breathed. “Okay.’’ 

Alastair lingered a moment longer. Then he stood up on his toes and kissed Thomas again. He smiled. “See you around, Lightwood.’’ 

“Goodnight,’’ Thomas murmured. He watched Alastair go back into the Institute. Thomas knew he should be getting back to the party too. He waited a few more minutes though, so he could gather himself and so the chilly wind could cool his heated face. 

He didn’t know what would happen when he went back into the ballroom. He and Alastair couldn’t just hold a normal conversation. They couldn’t just act like nothing happened. But this wasn’t the right night to hold that conversation; they had raised enough suspicion already to be seen talking alone in hushed voices. They would have to figure out what they were another time. Until then though, Thomas would enjoy the rest of the night. And then he would go home and celebrate the New Year with his family. He smiled to himself. Going home didn’t sound so bad anymore. It would be nice to see his mother. 

Thomas looked up at the peaceful winter night sky. “Happy New Year, Barbara,’’ he whispered. He got no response, but he knew she heard him. It was enough.

Thomas turned and went back inside. 


End file.
